Shame
by SibylVanestiel
Summary: Prompt: 2014!Verse Castiel's orgy, Dean included. But please make it angst/hurt more than porn. Slash.


** Here the prompt: 2014!Verse Castiel's orgy, Dean included. But please make it angst/hurt more than porn.**

_The fallen angel; now a mere mortal; sat cross legged, waiting for his band of women to return. He had found embracing the free love of the camp easier now that he and Dean no longer acknowledged the profound bond between them. The feel of all the warm bodies, and the drugs coursing through him combined with the lust his now fully human body was capable of made all of Dean's harsh words and actions a little duller._

Sure, Dean was open with himself to a point; he had made his rounds with almost every woman they had in their little shack city in the wilderness, but it was not the same. There was no spark left in him. No more passion for the angel who sacrificed everything for him then there was for the woman he had spent the night before with.

That was why he was so surprised to see the broken hunter standing in his doorway.

"Got room for another?" Dean asked, with no hesitation and no joy in his voice.

"For you? Anything." Castiel replied with a casual tone, with only a hint of mocking.

Pulling all the drapes closed and lighting the incense as the four naked women returned to the mats before the alter, he patted the floor in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture as he began to remove his clothes. The small hands of his party began to explore each other's flesh and his own as Cas watched Dean strip with the confidence of a man who was never questioned, a man who was never challenged.

This was not the first time Cas had seen his friend in the flesh this way, all his scars bare for others to see, but it was the first time in a long time he could see beyond the face Dean hid behind. There was more than lust and hunger in his motivations. He craved contact on a level he had so rarely been able to give himself over these past few years. He watched as his friend reached out for the closest female body, pulling her to him and instructing her how to please him with no words at all.

Soon Dean was pleasuring one woman while the other serviced him with her mouth, but beyond the physical he felt nothing, as he always did.

Turning his gaze towards the former angel and his two lovers Dean couldn't help but feel the jealousy boil inside him. These women who profaned to touch what was once his. He felt the force of his anger pushing him back to that dark place he had to pull himself from in order to function, in order to do his job.

He had wished a thousand times he had been strong enough to become Michael's sword when it would have put an end to the hell he lived every moment. Even his dreams were endless emptiness, filled with the memory of Sam; filled with the memory of his arrogance. And now that was all he had left- arrogance. His only weapon; it allowed him to do what was needed of him- despite what was right. Sam would have been the one to stop him when he took things to a dark place, but now everywhere was darkness. He told himself he did what he had to do just to survive. He told himself he did it because it was his job, he told himself he would fix the world he had broken, but he had so little hope of that left.

Dean's jaw clenched in anger as he pulled at the writhing body on top of him, forcing her to her hands and knees. He had fucked this redhead before, but he didn't remember her name now. Grabbing her hips and forcing himself hard and fast into her, he pounded until she cried out, whether with pain or pleasure he didn't know, but she didn't stop him. He had always been a generous lover, women had never complained. He tried his best to satisfy their needs as well as his own; there was something thrilling about seeing what pleasure you could bring to others with your own body that had always revved him up. But he wasn't feeling any of that now.

Turning his hate filled eyes towards Castiel he rocked back and forth, hoping the fallen angel would see what he had become. Hoping he would rescue him from himself; imagining Cas would give him a reason to stop.

Reclined, limbs stretched in every direction covered in the naked flesh of three beautiful females should have given Cas the fulfillment he always found in his orgies, but Dean's presence made it hard for him to feel the loving vibe his group of followers usually gave him. Even the drugs were useless against the pain Dean could inflict without a word.

Watching the hunter he could see the void that had once been his most beloved friend. He would follow Dean anywhere, do anything for him, because he still loved him, even if he couldn't express it how he wanted to. The drugs and sex had become for him what killing had become for Dean, the only release he had from his hopelessness. Those few minutes in his climax that brought him a small measure of peace he was still able to enjoy. The hunter's face was a wall of anger, and Cas realized he would never gain the calm he needed while Dean was in such pain.

"Wait." He said with complete calm in his voice, but the women were all still alarmed by the unusual change in their activities.

Dean stopped as well, grateful for a reason to break himself away from the man he was becoming. He released the girl, who moaned in protest, and turned to kiss him gently on the mouth as she slithered into the pile of bodies touching Castiel.

The angel reached out a hand to Dean.

"Let us help you." He said.

Intertwining his own rough fingers into the smaller man's hand Dean nodded, bringing himself closer to the fray.

Dean hated seeing Cas this way, knowing he could have prevented it, knowing he was the reason. He thought this would be a good idea, this would give him what he needed, this would help him see the old Castiel he had prayed to in his time of need, but he had been so wrong.

These chicks didn't understand him, how could they hope to please him? How could they ever replace the connection he and Cas had shared? He wanted it back, all of it. The uncertainty, the lust, the hunger, the blasphemous beauty he had seen on the angel's face when he used him to make himself feel good. But those days were gone and there was no way to repair all that had happened between them. No way to let the angel back in.

This was wrong, he thought, releasing his hand from the grip he had longed for. Gathering his clothes and stepping into his jeans in such a hurry he didn't bother with his boxers - he just needed to get out of there.

"Dean!" He heard the gravely voice shout at him as he rushed down the steps and out into the grass, slipping on his shirt as he went.

He knew what Cas did in his shack, he had always known, but seeing it had changed him, living it had frightened him. All those hands, all the skin that brought his angel pleasure- and none of it was his. The ache returned, pressing on his chest like some immovable rock weighing him down. His Cas was gone, just as the Dean he once was, the Dean who had been able to love that angel would never return.

_Jumping into the nearest jeep, checking to see if his usual sidearm was loaded, he cocked it and gunned the engine. As he drove away he could feel Cas's eyes on the back of his neck, but he didn't look back. He wouldn't return until he had killed something- that was what the void was calling for now- and he had learned to feed the darkness if he had any chance of making it to tomorrow._


End file.
